I'm not a drinker, I'm a drunk
by Alice in Wonderless Land
Summary: Damon scoffed, "Well, I'd say you aren't even my type, but all evidence points to the contrary." - Post "Fool Me Once" Damon/Elena
1. Scotch is lithium, I don't want to feel

_What is this madness! I'm doing nothing but writing Vampire Diaries fanfiction when I have my final exams in less than a month! Yikes!_

_-Alice_

_

* * *

_

The darkness wrapped around Damon like a thick blanket. He could see with crystal clarity every inch of his bedroom. The bookshelf was overturned, volumes littering the floor. The overturned mattress, the shattered glass. Even in the darkness, he could see it all. He wished he couldn't.

He wanted to die.

She wasn't there. She wasn't fucking there – how could that even _happen?_ He had seen her, watched her as she was dragged into the tomb and then watched as the church was set alight. If she had escaped, why wouldn't she have found him? Just across the river. Just a short mile away.

Damon lay back and felt the broken glass crunch under the weight of his back. A small stinging pain of his flesh ripping slightly didn't bother him. The ceiling was pure white, grey in the darkness. He willed himself not to cry.

He could hear them, down the hall.

_Is he going to be okay?_

_I don't know, Elena. He's pretty shaken up._

_Maybe I should go in there and talk to—_

_No. No. Definitely not. He's unstable._

Damon suppressed a snarl. Unstable. _Unstable_. He felt saner than ever. In a flash, he stood up and brushed the glittering, shattered glass off of his body. He peered around the room, and rolled his eyes. This would not get the better of him.

He opened the curtain and let in what little daylight remained and found his jacket underneath the overturned mattress. Before leaving the room, he cast a quick glance at himself in the mirror. The person staring back at him looked dead.

Well, more dead than usual.

He wiped his face with his hand and determinedly stepped out of his bedroom and made his way down the stairs. He stepped loudly, to make sure that even Elena would hear him coming with her weak human ears.

"Damon, where are you going?" Stefan asked as Damon made his way to the door.

"Out, _mom_," Damon placed a smirk on his face.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Elena asked, her face etched with worry. He understood her concern. It had been under twenty-four hours since he learned that his one purpose for living never cared about him. Why would he be okay?

"Peachy keen. Just going out," Damon assured them. Before they had time to question him any more, he slammed the front door and went to the nearest bar. Happy hour would be starting soon and that meant a lot of drunk, impressionable girls with bodies full of sweet, pumping blood.

At the bar, he ordered straight scotch and downed three of them within the minute. He was so preoccupied with drinking that he nearly missed Elena sliding next to him at the bar.

"Does your boyfriend know you're here?" Damon asked in a soft voice after catching Elena's unmistakable scent. It was a mixture of fruity flowers and Stefan. He was all over her, like a plague.

"Stefan doesn't control me," Elena murmured, "He knows. He's not happy about it."

Downing another scotch, Damon glanced at her. She was looking at him again with that fucking _concerned_ expression. In a way, he liked it. It was strange seeing Katherine's face twist into a genuinely worried mask. She never once cared. Bitch.

"I'm worried about you, you know," Elena admitted quietly while Damon took another sip of his drink. "You're in love with someone who never loved you-"

"Salt. In the wound. You're rubbing it," Damon slurred. Oh god, only four drinks and already on the tipsy side. This wasn't going to end well.

"So what are you going to do now?" Elena asked, her voice growing impatient. "I just told you that I cared about you enough to go against what Stefan wanted, and you're still going to compel girls into being your playthings because you can't accept rejection?"

Damon gripped the glass in his hand so hard he thought it might break. "Rejection is one thing, Elena. Waiting around for a century and a half to rescue someone, and then finding they never needed to be rescued and – here's the funny part – didn't care enough to find you, is something else entirely."

He turned to face her. "Rejection is you slapping me when I tried to compel you, rejection is your little blonde friend walking out on me. I don't give a flying fuck about _rejection_, Elena."

Elena wasn't looking at him. She was staring at the wooden bar top intently, as if studying every shift in the grain pattern. Behind a wall of brown hair, he heard her whisper something. She must have only mouthed it to herself, because he didn't even hear it.

"Sorry, what was that?" he asked.

"I didn't know that you were trying to compel me that night," she admitted. "Even after I found out about compulsion… I just assumed you were being a sleaze."

Damon scoffed, "Well, I'd say you aren't even my type, but all evidence points to the contrary."

There was a silence between them, broken only by the sound of pool being played by some college students and the soft tunes coming from the oldschool jukebox in the corner. Elena made a decisive motion and lifted the vervain necklace off of her neck and placed it with a harsh _tinkle_ on the bar.

"Elena," Damon drawled, "What on earth are you doing?"

"Now's your chance to compel me, Damon," she stated curtly, her eyes flicking from the necklace to Damon's face and back again. "Go ahead."

Damon rolled his eyes. "If I wanted you dead you'd be dead."

"But I'm not," Elena pointed out.

"Yet," Damon muttered under his breath. He could feel Elena's eyes – Katherine's eyes – staring at the side of his face like twin laser beams.

With a swift motion he locked his eyes on hers. Without her vervain she appeared to be instantly entranced. He could see past her eyes, into her thoughts. None of them centered around a fear of him. There wasn't even an inkling of nervousness.

"You will stop asking me whether I'm okay," Damon stated bluntly. "You know I'm not. But from now on you will be convinced of my… emotional stability. No more questions about Katherine, no more questions about my love for her. Do you understand?"

Elena's eyes searched his and he waited for the usual 'I understand' to be echoed back to him. There was none. Damon frowned and looked at Elena closer.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Open your mouth," he insisted.

"I'm not going to-" she was cut off midsentence as Damon stuck a finger in her mouth and pulled it back out again. She started gagging and saying stuff about how weird and gross he was, but he was staring at his moist fingertip. Elena's saliva glistened on it in the dull lighting of the bar. He leaned in and sniffed it, and then gave his finger a quick lick.

Vervain. Definitely.

"You've ingested vervain," he murmured, "You sly little minx."

Elena frowned. "No, I haven't. What are you talking about?"

He held up his finger to her, where their saliva mingled. "I can smell it, I can taste it. Vervain. You've been eating it, drinking it. It's in your system. I can't compel you, even with your necklace off."

Elena looked at him with genuine confusion before understanding hit her.

"Stefan gave me a drink before I came out to see you," she admitted.

"And thus the truth comes out," he laughed. "He thinks you trust me too much. And here I was, thinking I could compel you into…"

"Into thinking you're okay," she finished for him. "But you're not, Damon. And I know it."

Damon simply stared into his half empty glass. That was how things always ended up. Half empty. All his life he had hunted down Stefan, made his life a living hell, then disappeared back into the night to switch off his emotions and drink as many people as he could. What was so different now? Why couldn't be switch off the way he used to?

He felt, distantly, Elena's arms wrap around him. She was muttering something about _Don't Cry_ but Damon didn't cry. It wasn't his style. But he could feel it, a moisture stinging at his eyes.

"I care about you," she was muttering into his hair, "And so does Stefan, even if he doesn't show it. You'll be okay."

When he didn't respond, Elena sighed and got off the bar stool and walked out. Damon looked into his drink and pushed it away. Not tonight. He hurt too much tonight. Even his body ached.


	2. I'd hate to see you out of control

_In case you can't tell, these are sort of missed/changed moments in between what we see on screen. They don't actually impact the plot of the series very much, but maybe… -shrug- _

_Also, I apologise for the slowness of this chapter. Not a lot of dialogue. Mostly descriptives._

- _Alice_

_

* * *

_

Chapter Two: I'd Hate To See You Out Of Control

* * *

Damon ran his hands through his hair. It had been weeks since the uncovering of Vicki. Weeks since the incident with the tomb vampires. And now it was time for another Founder's Day event and he had to make an appearance because, hey, he was a part of the council now. Keeping a low profile was a smart move, Damon thought. Not only keeping a low profile, but actively involving himself in the community. The queen never suspects a worker bee to bring the hive down, does she?

He poured himself some blood laced whiskey. He had been trying to ween himself of the liquor ever since that incident with Elena at The Grill, but he wasn't about to change his lifestyle simply because his unbeating heart had been ripped out of his chest. Things had to continue as normal, which had been growing ever more difficult since Stefan had decided to go gaga over human blood.

Damon considered telling Elena. Just one phonecall. That's all it would take. But no. It would be better to remain quiet and watch how things played out. Waiting for the right time to strike had never really been one of Damon's strong suits. He was too impulsive and reckless. But he hadn't done much moving lately anyway.

He silently put on his tuxedo, and cast a narcissistic glance at himself in the mirror. Stefan and Elena were already at the mansion for the Founder's Day Gala. Elena was in the running for Miss Mystic falls. He laughs mirthlessly to himself as he remembered the original competition. It was like a debutante ball, only with less grandparents. He wondered, briefly, how much had changed.

At the Gala, Damon was carefully sipping his drink when he caught a glimpse of Stefan out of the corner of his eye. He was too peppy. Too full of zest. Too out of control, impulsive and reckless. Too much like Damon. He frowned and placed his drink on the nearest counter before deciding that this would be a most inconvenient time for Elena to learn Stefan secret, and was thus the most opportune time to bring it out into the open.

"Stefan's been drinking human blood. He's addicted to the stuff, gone off the wagon as it were," Damon's eyes sparkled as he repeated the phrase that had been overused to explain his love for Katherine, "He's _unstable_."

Elena's reaction had been, frankly, delicious. And confronting Stefan like that right in front of Damon was like blood icing on a chocolate fudge cake. He expected squabbling and even some throwing of objects, but when he heard Stefan crash the mirror in the bathroom all the way from downstairs, the thought crossed his mind that he had gone too far.

"Nahh," he consoled himself aloud, smirking slightly. But when Elena's name was called and Stefan had magically disappeared, he began to worry.

_Shit. Okay. Quickly. Think fast._

The look on Elena's face when she saw the wrong – the bad – Salvatore brother waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase was the cutest visage of absolute confusion Damon had ever seen.

"Where's Stefan?" she hissed at him.

"I don't know," he said, plastering another smirk on his face. Elena tried to give a smile back, but they were already out in the sunlight, in front of the entire council, and everyone in Mystic Falls important enough to be invited to such an event. The dance, Damon thought, was easy enough. He had learnt it back when it was the fashionable thing to actually _do_ at parties.

And he loved to dance. A trait he knew his brother didn't share.

"Let's just get through this, okay?" he murmured. She nodded subtly as they bowed. She lifted her hand and he lifted his.

It was amazing to see, actually, how perfectly their hands would fit together did the dance permit them to touch. He noted that she kept her nails shorter than Katherine did, and that the hands themselves seemed slightly smaller.

_Elena is not Katherine_, he reminded himself as they changed directions. Elena's eyes were locked into his. He remembered Stefan telling him something about how they were told to 'flirt with their eyes' by the instructor. Damon didn't flirt with his eyes. He penetrated. Something about being a vampire and all.

Their hands were so close, now. One twitch of a finger and he would feel Elena's warm flesh under his. He knew that there would be a shock, an electricity. He could feel it charging at the distance.

Finally, when the dance dictated they should, Damon wrapped his arms around Elena's torso and held her hand. The charge he was expecting surged briefly and then the warmth of her flesh beneath his glowed. He held her close, closer than he thought she would probably like. But that was how the dance worked, he told himself. The almost-touch, then the everything-touch.

Damon was a confident dancer. And Elena was a confident follower. She trusted him. That was odd.

As they separated, back into their line, Damon stared at her and she stared back. He couldn't deny what had just happened. He had just danced with his brother's girlfriend, and there had been something. Something so small, like a seed.

She looked up at him underneath her eyelashes and he could see the seed planted into her mind as well.

_Well, shit_.

* * *

Later that night, after they had found Stefan in the woods with his teeth in that poor girl, and had safely locked him in the vervain cellar, they sat in the living room in silence.

"Thank you," Damon heard.

"You're uh, welcome," he muttered back. He went to pour himself a drink – blood laced whiskey, again – and sat down on the couch.

"Do you even know what I'm thanking you for?" Elena asked, still standing. She didn't want to sit beside him, it seemed.

"For dragging your blood-crazed vampire boyfriend home and locking him in a cellar," Damon surmised.

"No."

"For what, then?"

"For, I don't know, taking care of me. I guess. At the pageant and stuff," Elena looked down, out of character in her frazzled state. But Damon could understand that. What with the love of her life wanting to suck her dry and all…

"Don't mention it," Damon sipped his drink. "Seriously. Don't. Stefan will think I was trying to move in on his gal."

"Is he… is he going to be okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, just keep him off blood for a while then ween him back on the animal crap. He'll be fine," Damon insisted, wondering if he believed it himself.

Elena finally sat next to him on the couch. Right next to him. Their shoulders were touching and Damon had to shift uncomfortably for a second.

"Thanks again," Elena whispered, leaning in to Damon. Damon blanked for a second. She was leaning in to him. She was going to kiss him. His body was frozen stiff as a corpse until Elena's lips landed on his cheek and left a small peck there.

Damon let out a breath he didn't know he'd even been holding before taking another sip of his whiskey. This was going to become an interesting rehabilitation period.


	3. L' is for the way you look at me

_Bit of a shorter chapter. (These just seem to be getting shorter and shorter, don't they?) I'm experimenting with getting into Damon's personality more. I feel that as the story progresses, he kind of leaves a mourning period and becomes himself more. And that is my excuse for not portraying his character properly in the past chapters._

_- Alice_

_

* * *

_

Chapter Three: 'L' is for the way you look at me

* * *

The device was cool and metallic in Damon's hands. It didn't do anything. Not anything he could use it for, anyway. And Elena was doing that puppy-dog thing she did that made him putty.

Ever since Stefan had gone from gaga to perfectly un-crazed, Elena had been slipping from him. Not that he ever really had her to begin with. But that was hardly the point.

The point was that he had gone running all over the place with the Teacher to find this… device. And now she was telling him to hand it over so that Isobel (and, by proxy, Katherine) could have it. Damon's first instinct was perhaps his wisest.

No way. No how. Fuck you, bitch.

But then, as mentioned earlier, there was the puppy-dog thing. And the 'please Damon'. And Damon was really not in a position to deny Elena anything. She was his best friend. His only friend, for that matter. With a sigh at the depressing thought, he placed the circular device in Elena's hand and squeezed her fingers momentarily. She squeezed back, still staring up at him with those big, brown…

Katherine's eyes, he reminded himself. Those despicable eyes. Those exact eyes.

But she smiled in a way that Katherine never would and thanked him in a way Katherine would never dare. It's those differences, he told himself, that made her completely different, despite everything.

Over the past weeks, he had learned a lot about Elena. The way she tapped her foot when she got antsy, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the way she tucked her hair behind her ears when she was being serious. And she had probably learned a few of his traits, as well – that eye thing he does when he's feeling cheeky, the way he sighs when he feels defeated. If she had been paying as much attention to him as he was to her, then these habits would be etched into her brain.

Isobel was a fond memory, Damon had to admit. As he watched mother and daughter standing together, exchanging the device, he almost fancied the idea of how many generations of women he could have (other than Elena, of course. But he could have her in other ways…). His reverie was broken, however, when Isobel uttered the words he wasn't expecting.

"Because he's in _love _with you."

Well.

Um.

So. That was new.

He cast a quick glance at Stefan. A glance that (hopefully) said, "This bitch is fucking insane."

But Stefan just clenched his jaw like he had been expecting this the whole time. And Elena looked at him with those puppy-dog eyes, only this time they looked confused and sad because he knew that she knew they could never, ever be together. And she didn't want it. And for some reason, that hurt him.

Not that Isobel was right. Not at all.

And the lecture that Stefan gave him afterwards about how "Elena is not Katherine" didn't exactly help the situation.

Of course Elena wasn't Katherine! Damon _knew that_. He consciously made the comparison every day and consciously concluded that exact thought. They were opposites, complete and utter binaries. Damon knew it and loved it and revelled in its glow – that he could know someone so antithetical to all he had known before.

The question loomed in Damon's mind – did Stefan know this? That Elena wasn't Katherine, he meant. Because the way he said it seemed (now, you could say if this was far fetched) that he was trying to convince himself rather than chastise Damon. In fact, one may even go as far as to say that Stefan was more obsessed with Katherine than Damon was.

Okay, perhaps not that obsessed. He'd be lying to himself if he pretended that he hadn't spent the better part of the last century and a half pining over her while Stefan enjoyed a hapless life of eating bunnies and writing in his journal.

Later that night, after Stefan had sent Elena home (with a chaste kiss on the forehead no doubt. The pussy) he actually had the audacity to confront Damon about Isobel's comment. As if he _believed_ it.

"I know," Stefan began, looking up at Damon from under his eyebrows like he was speaking to a three year old, "that you and Elena have grown… close, lately."

"Oh," Damon feigned surprise, "You mean while you were killing people, freaking out and undergoing relentless withdrawal pains from human blood? Yeah, I guess we've become friends."

"Elena is not Katherine," Stefan said, again, because really that was his mantra, wasn't it?

"I know that," Damon rolled his eyes. "The question, rather, is _do you_?"

Before Stefan had a chance to retort, Damon did his cheeky-eye-thing (Elena would know it if she had seen it) and carried his drink upstairs. His room was still in a careless disarray after he had trashed it way back when the tomb was first opened. He had never thought it necessary to go through the effort of reorganising everything.

The armoire remained broken, littered with his various colognes and the perfumes of his female victims. The curtains remained shredded and closed. The bed, thankfully, had been righted for sleeping. And he had a new full-length mirror because, despite it all, he still was devilishly handsome.

Stefan hadn't come upstairs to argue with him.

Damon let a smirk cross his lips. That was a sign. A sign that he had been right.

As he lay in bed that night he stared at his fingers. What had Elena thought when they touched at the Miss Mystic Falls pageant? What had Elena been thinking when she squeezed back? Damon let out a pensive sigh and touched his finger to his nose.

He wasn't in love with Elena. Isobel had been wrong. He wasn't in love with her.

With a frown, Damon realised that he had become his brother. Repeating a mantra over and over again in his head that he didn't even believe.


	4. Hate is just a four letter word

_I love Damon, he's a sexy beast. But you know what else I love? Reviews._

_Thank you to those lovely people who have reviewed the last three chapters. It is much appreciated. I'm like a review fairy. IF YOU STOP REVIEWING, I DIE._

_Love Always,_

_Alice_

_

* * *

_

Chapter Four: Hate is just a four letter word

* * *

In retrospect, Damon thought as he lay on the floor of the basement, his head still swimming from the vervain injection, giving the device to Isobel was probably a terrible, terrible idea.

He tried to move his limbs but they felt heavy and weighted to the floor like concrete. Quietly, he glanced over to Anna. Sweet Annabelle, he remembered vividly. Annabelle and Pearl. She was so lovely, so kind, so fragile looking. And now she was lying on the floor, beneath John Gilbert, pleading for mercy.

John raised the stake and Damon tried to reach out. To stop it from happening. Not Anna – she wasn't built for this. Sure, she had lived for centuries, but she was still only a teenager, a child, a fragile flower.

Her still body, covered in raised veins as the stake was removed, almost made him choke. Damon mused on how this always happened to him. It was a selfish thought, he acknowledged. But everyone he knew, even the immortal ones, were dying. And he lived. Or un-lived. He un-lived, un-loved. Fantastic.

When the fire was set, he tried to suppress his coughs incase John Gilbert heard him and came to stake him as well, but John was long gone. As the vervain wore off, he sat up slightly.

And there was the mayor.

What a surprise.

Damon had no one. Stefan hated him, Elena was pushing herself away from him since the whole 'love' thing came into perspective and he really had nothing to lose.

"I'm a vampire," he admitted to the mayor, "What's your excuse?"

Luckily (for Damon, that is) the mayor was killed quickly with a slight head snap by another vampire, because telling the head of the Founder's Council that you're a vampire is probably the last thing you would do.

Through the flames, Damon saw Stefan. Come to the rescue. How gallant.

Only when he was out of the basement did he see The Witch. She was glaring at him heatedly. She had obviously had a role in this. She had done a lot for him, a lot that he had never really thanked her for. So, he swallowed and thanked her.

"Thanks," he tried to do the eye thing, but it failed in his current state of weakness.

"I didn't do it for you," The Witch snapped. "I did it for Elena."

When Damon found himself at the Gilbert house a few minutes later he didn't even know why he had come. Elena wasn't there, he knew. He couldn't hear her anywhere in the house. Uncle Johnny was, on the other hand, as was Jenna. He had to make this as sneaky as possible.

The kid had a right to know, he told himself.

"Anna's dead," Damon told Jeremy from the doorway of his bedroom. The look on the boy's face made Damon feel something that he loathed – empathy, sadness.

He was contemplating how much easier life would be if the emotions he felt didn't exist. If he could just switch them off like he used to. But he knew that was impossible now, and was reflecting on that when Jeremy broached the subject.

"Vampires can turn it off. Why don't you?"

"I did," Damon admitted, "For a long, long time."

As he exited the house (through the front door. Jenna was in the kitchen and John was out back, so he could be as open about it as he liked), he saw her.

Elena was carrying her costume, her hair curled, and staring at him like he was a ghost.

"What are you doing here?" she asked with a slight frown.

He shut the door slowly and cast a glance at her. "A failed and feeble attempt at doing the right thing."

He just wanted to help Jeremy. Make him forget again. But the boy said no, so what could he do? Manipulation was all that Damon had skill for. It was what he was _built_ for.

"Which was…" Elena trailed off, eyeing Damon suspiciously.

"It's not important," Damon muttered, taking Elena's costume bag and placing it to the side on the patio. Elena looked down at her feet when Damon tried to look into her eyes. She was intentionally avoiding his gaze. She hated him.

"Thank you," he heard her say from behind his back. It was low and somewhat confused, reiterating that she had no idea what good he had attempted, or indeed what she was thanking him for.

"You know," Damon began, turning to face her, "I came to this town wanting to destroy it. Tonight I found myself wanting to protect it."

He stared her dead in the eyes and asked, "How does that happen?"

Before Elena had a chance to respond, he continued softly, "I'm not a hero, Elena. I don't _do good_. It's not… in me."

There was a brief silence before Elena spoke back, "Maybe it is."

Damon simply shook his head. "No. No, it's reserved for my brother. And you. And Bonnie. Even though she has a reason to hate me, she still helped Stefan save me."

The Witch had helped him in the past and all he had done was destroyed her. Killed her grandmother by proxy, infected her best friend's mind. No wonder Bonnie didn't deactivate the device. She wanted nothing more than to kill Damon.

Elena shrugged in her leather jacket. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"She did it for you," Damon stated, "Which means that somewhere along the way, you decided that I was worth saving."

He moved closer to her and said in a low voice, "I wanted to… thank you. For that."

Elena simply observed him and nodded. "You're welcome."

Damon searched her face for a moment before leaning in and kissing her slowly, softly, on the cheek. Her flesh was cold under his lips, her scent unfamiliar. As he lifted his face from hers, he stared at her.

Well, shit.

It wasn't Elena.

He frowned slowly, careful not to give away this new revelation. Katherine. Katherine. Katherine. She was here, and back, and pretending to be Elena and there was nothing Damon could do. He tried to think rationally. He couldn't fight her, she would win. He couldn't call her out on it, she wouldn't care. In fact, she'd mock him for all of this… _feeling_ he'd been doing. In front of her. Shit.

And what's more was that as soon as he realized it was Katherine, he felt something more. This was the woman (repeat: _the _woman) over whom he had been pining for last century and a half. And she was right here in front of him and even though she wasn't Elena, she was still Katherine and smelled like cherry blossoms and red wine. And she was _in Mystic Falls_. For him? Maybe.

Damon leant in and slowly, softly, let their lips meet. Another telltale sign – Elena would never let Damon kiss her. And more importantly, she would never kiss back with the passion and ferocity that Katherine was doing right then. He cupped her head and laced his fingers through her hair and could feel it bubbling up inside him – laughter.

He started chuckling and pulled away from her, while Katherine stared at him with a confused expression on her face. Before Damon could explain, catch her out, make it seem like he knew all along, Jenna opened the door.

She cast a glance at Damon.

"Why are you here?" she asked. Damon glanced from Katherine to Jenna and shook his head.

"Just walking _Elena_ home," he said, emphasizing her name, causing Katherine to shoot him a glare. Oh, he knew. And now she knew that he knew. And he knew she knew he knew.

Delicious.

"Okay, then maybe you should come ins-"

Damon cleared his throat and quickly intercepted. "Um, actually, _Elena_ was just telling me how she wanted to go back to the Boarding House and see if Stefan was okay. He had a headache earlier, and…"

"Actually," Katherine interjected, "I'd like to see Uncle John."

Jenna simply laughed. "Don't worry about him, Elena. Go see Stefan. I'll see you later."

Jenna shook her head and smiled, closing the door.

As soon as she did, Damon started chuckling uncontrollably, his shoulder shaking as he looked at Katherine's expression. She was pissed. Very pissed.

"Damon, what do you _think_ you're doing?"

"Seriously, Katherine? You've stooped this low?" Damon shook his head.

"I need to see John Gilbert, Damon," she said in a low, threatening voice, "You don't understand."

"John _Gilbert_ just had be locked in a basement that was set on _fire_ earlier tonight," Damon pointed out. "And I know that you wanted him to have the device-thingy. So no, I really don't understand."

Katherine let a small smile quirk on her lips, but by the blood pulsing around her eyes Damon could tell that she was pressing her anger deep into her stomach.

"You've become very cocky over the years," she stated. "The Damon I knew was so sweet and loving."

"The Damon you knew is long dead," Damon spread his arms to the side. "Introducing New Damon. Strong, sexy, and with a huge grudge towards a particular bitch."

Katherine rolled her eyes and jutted out one hip. "Fine. Let's go see Stefan, if that's what you want."

She looked Damon in the eyes harshly. "We'll see how my boys have changed."

**_

* * *

_**

_Remember when I said that I wouldn't change the plotline?_

_I lied._

_- Alice_


	5. Quoting Shakespeare is sexy, right?

_Confession time: I wrote this entire chapter two days ago and it was deleted._

_Also I just graduated High School. Please leave your congratulations in the review box._

- _Alice_

_

* * *

_

Chapter Five: Quoting Shakespeare is sexy, right?

* * *

When Katherine stepped decisively into the Boarding House, Damon suppressed a sigh. He was hoping that, despite everything, the still might need an invitation. He'd give it to her, of course. He just wanted to be needed for something for once.

Even if Zack were still alive, she'd be able to come and go as she pleased because of the history of the old place, but it didn't make him feel any less shit.

Elena was at Bonnie's after they had left the hospital to visit Caroline. They passed Bonnie's place on the drive over and Damon caught her scent. He hated himself for being so acutely tuned to her every move, but it did have its advantages. It meant he could call upstairs to Stefan bravely without any repercussions.

As his brother made his way slowly down the stairs, Damon raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"Stefan, you remember Katherine, right?"

Stefan tilted his head to the side and crossed his arms.

"What do you want?" he practically snarled.

Katherine just cocked her hip to the side and smiled in a way that Damon supposed was meant to be seductive. He wondered, briefly, if the reason it was having little to no effect on him was because he was in love with Elena.

No.

Not in love.

Shut up.

Damon made himself a drink and heard Katherine purr, "Oh Stefan. Can't I stop by and say hello?"

Stop by and say hello? That bitch had one hundred and forty-five years to stop by and say hello, hi, I'm actually not burnt to a crisp and I'd like you to know. Goddamn it, she was such a bitch. That was the only word that Damon could think of, and he screamed it inside his own head. Bitch. _Bitch_. He gripped the class tightly in his hand and tossed back the blood-laced whiskey. It reminded him of that first night after not finding Katherine's body in the tomb. He drank so much he nearly cried in front of Elena.

What a pussy.

"No, Katherine. You can't just stop by," Stefan said, frowning in that broody way Damon hated. "You have a plan. We know you do."

Katherine just made her way to Stefan and ran a slim finger down his chest. Damon was sure he saw Stefan flinch slightly, but wasn't about to say anything.

"To be honest, I wanted to impersonate your girlfriend. But your big brother caught me out," she pouted. "Great girl though. Very pretty."

Katherine glanced at the table beside the stairs where her a picture of Stefan and Elena was framed. She held it up beside her own face and smiled in an imitation of Elena's beaming face.

"If you even think about hurting Elena…" Stefan seethed. But Katherine just laughed.

"Hurt Elena? Please. I wouldn't dream of it. She's my kin, after all."

"A little more than kin and less than kind," Damon muttered. Stefan cast a bemused glance at his older brother. Damon didn't know why he had just quoted Hamlet, but he was sure that Stefan had no idea he even read anything, let alone Shakespeare. He shook his head and sipped his drink.

Katherine chuckled and Stefan lunged briefly in her direction as a threat. Damon simply sighed and placed his drink down.

"Listen," Damon began, "Stef, buddy. You know how much I want to tear out her throat and shove it up her ass. But she's got a couple of hundred years on us. I think we'd lose. And also, we need her help."

Stefan groaned and Katherine giggled. How did they ever see anything in her again? She was intensely irritating. But then she did the whole hair-toss-look-at-Damon-from-beneath-her-eyelashes thing and Damon felt himself go hot. Damn.

Katherine batted her eyelashes and tossed her curls over one shoulder.

"I'm interested in Elena. She's my exact doppelganger," she glanced at Damon, "although apparently the differences are subtle enough for you to pick up on."

"Please," Damon shrugged, "Elena would never throw herself at me the way you did. As much as she indefinitely wants to."

This warranted another scoff from Stefan. He pushed past Katherine, shouldering her and moving over to stand by Damon. It almost seemed like a gesture of allegiance, although Damon wasn't exactly holding his breath.

"Can you go check on Bonnie for me? I had her working on a spell," Stefan mumbled to Damon, obviously aware of the fact that Katherine could hear them. "I'll look after our guest."

Bonnie's house. That was where Elena was.

Right. Gotcha.

Damon gave Stefan a pat on the back. "Anything for you, bro. I'll be off. Katherine, it's been a pleasure."

Before Katherine could say anything more, he sped out the door towards the car and floored it.

The whole way to Bonnie's house he felt as if he was hyperventilating. He didn't need to breathe. What was this bullshit? If his heart could beat it would be thundering. He could feel the blood in his system buzz around excitedly. It was Katherine. Despite everything it was still Katherine. It would always be Katherine, wouldn't it?

When he pulled up to Bonnie's house, he realized how late it was. However, the lights of The Witch's room were on so she and Elena were still up. Hopefully she had gotten his message to stay at a friend's house. Katherine could too easily gain entry to the Gilbert household – hell, Damon wasn't sure if by interrupting Jenna's sentence the invite had been revoked, anyway.

He knocked on the door and was greeted by a very sour-looking Bonnie. She frowned.

"What do you want?"

"Something wicked this way comes," he raised an eyebrow. Okay. First Hamlet, now Macbeth. Something was wrong with him tonight. He was acting far too… Stefan-y.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Bonnie cocked an eyebrow. Before Damon could answer, Elena had come up behind Bonnie and was peering at Damon questioningly.

"What's wrong?"

Damon looked at Elena for a moment and wondered what he would have done if they had really kissed. She might stake him. He might feed on her. But his blood was still buzzing and hid head ached, so he just uttered the single most devastating word he could think of.

"Katherine."

* * *

As they sat on the couch, Damon wanted to hoist Elena's legs on his lap comfortably like they had done before. But now she was sitting upright, terrified. She was breathing hard and Damon could feel the blood rush to her face as she worried. Worried, worried.

"Elena," he placed his hand on her knee. "It'll be fine. We don't even know what she wants."

"I do," she muttered. "She wants you and Stefan."

Damon shook his head. "No, no-"

"Yes, she does. And," Elena caught his hand in hers, "I don't want to lose either of you."

Damon swallowed and looked at the sincere expression on Elena's face. Her eyes were searching his and he wondered if there was as much in his eyes as he wanted there to be. He wondered if his eyes were enough of a canvas to paint the extremity of what he was feeling.

Bonnie coughed from the door to the kitchen.

"Obviously we have no blood," she rolled her eyes, "but we have some whiskey if you like."

"I'm good," Damon smiled slightly. He still couldn't believe that Bonnie had invited him in. He didn't want to impose on her any more than he already was, what with her hating him and everything.

"I'm sure that there's something in the Emily's spellbook about uninviting," he assured her as soon as he entered. But she had just shrugged it off. A favor to Elena. Elena was getting Bonnie to do him a lot of favors lately.

"Until we know what she's up to," Damon said adamantly, "Elena's going to have to stay some place where Katherine can't gain an invitation for looking like her."

"She can stay here," Bonnie offered. "My parents love her and I can tell is she's a vampire by touching her. No biggie."

"I don't want to be locked up," Elena complained. "Bonnie's house will be like a prison!"

"Then the world is one," Damon said. Hamlet again. Nonsense.

Elena smirked a little.

"What?"

She laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Quoting Shakespeare. Very dangerous and sexy," she joked.

"Please. Everything I do is dangerous and sexy."


	6. My best friend is the bottle

_This chapter is essentially just to set up a more 3 Dimensional character for Katherine. Everything we've seen of her has been bitchy and mean and spiteful, but she was in love with someone who didn't love her as well. You know? Okay._

- _Alice_

* * *

Chapter Six: My best friend is the bottle

* * *

The week passed slowly. Katherine made it clear that she was to be staying at the Boarding House for the remainder of her 'visit' because if she went anywhere in town she'd be mistaken for Elena. When she made her case, she'd said something along the lines of "or I could just roam about town and give Elena a bad name..."

Damon offered up his room to her. He'd sleep downstairs so he could keep an eye on her if she tried leaving.

"What does she want?" Stefan asked him one day as they made their way to Bonnie's house to check on Elena.

_"She wants you and Stefan." _Elena's voice rang in Damon's ears like a bell, crystal clear, husky and low.

"I don't know," Damon frowned as they pulled up in Bonnie's driveway. "But we can't keep Elena locked up like an animal. Maybe we should take her out?"

Stefan had only rolled his eyes. "I'll take out _my_ girlfriend. You can stay at the Boarding House and look after Katherine."

Damon pursed his lips. He had been spending more time with Elena than Stefan had, recently. Late night checkups, phonecalls, all-night movie marathons when the fear made it impossible for her to sleep. Stefan didn't know about any of this, though. It was better if he didn't, even though Elena saw it as perfectly innocent. She was his best friend, after all.

Well, Damon supposed, being the Only of something immediately makes you the Best. You know, by default.

In fact, he had started to hate himself a bit, lately. He was quite whipped, when it came to Elena. She'd call him up, he'd be there in a flash. He wanted nothing more than to keep her safe and happy and UGH.

It was really not good for his reputation to be this lenient.

So when Stefan stepped out of the car and went towards the door, Damon didn't follow. Instead, he pulled out of the driveway and called out the window, "Have fun, you crazy kids" before driving back off towards the Boarding House.

Damon Salvatore was nobody's pet. He wasn't there to sit on the couch and be stroked while she watched TV on a lonely night. He wasn't loyal to anyone. Anyone except for Katherine, really. And that was all in the past. Katherine was the past. Elena was the future.

Damon was never one to really think about the future. However, on the drive to the Boarding House he could see it unfold before his eyes. He would watch over Elena from a distance while Stefan was her everything, and she'd grow older, beg to be turned, he would refuse. She'd grow old and die and Stefan and Damon would remain eternal 17 and 24 year-olds. And there would be more girls for Damon, more brooding for Stefan. And then in one hundred and forty-five years, Stefan will have convinced himself that Elena never loved him anyway and Damon will probably be off in some part of Europe, researching witchcraft to bring her back to life or something equally pathetic.

Damon had an addictive personality. No denying it.

As soon as he entered the Boarding House, Katherine's scent filled the air. She had a heavy, rich scent. It was deep and sweet and overtook any other scent in the house. Katherine was standing in the doorway, pouting.

"I hate being locked up in here," she admitted. "Let's go out."

"We can't. Elena's being let out today and there is quite literally only one place in town where anyone can hang out. She'll be there. We can't be."

Katherine walked up to Damon slowly, her hips swaying. She leant in close to Damon and smiled.

"Then we can stay in, if you want."

* * *

Katherine stood beside the broken armoire, her naked body leaning over to examine the perfume bottles. Damon lay back in the bed, staring at the patterns on the ceiling. First night after not seeing Katherine body in the tomb, he stared at the ceiling for hours. It still looked blindingly white.

"I like this one," Katherine said, holding up an old-fashioned perfume bottle. She sniffed it before placing it back down carefully.

"I have a question," Damon began. It wasn't a total lie – he had a question. In fact, he had several. But which one to ask was going to be a difficult decision.

Katherine sped over to the bed and straddled him, her long hair falling over her breasts. She leaned over and kissed down his chest before mumbling a 'yes?' into his flesh.

Damon caught himself before deciding to ask the least important question.

"Who's better in bed? Me or Stefan?"

Or, you know, the most important question. It really was necessary.

Katherine just laughed and looked at him with her big brown eyes. "You used to be the better lover. Now you're a better fucker. I guess it's the best of both worlds, isn't it? Unless Stefan's turned rough as well, in which case I may have to break out the leather and whips..."

"I used to be sweet," Damon stated, disbelieving it slightly. Most of what he remembered from his human life revolved around the war and his father's disappointment. His relationship with Katherine was a smoky haze of sex and love, blurred by the bias of blind affection.

"I didn't have to compel you back then, you know," Katherine reminded him. "You loved me without it."

The way she said it sounded almost wistful.

"You had to compel Stefan," Damon raised an eyebrow. "And now he's with a girl who looks exactly like you. Seems to me like he's not over you."

Katherine responded by kissing his neck. "And yet you're the one in love with Elena and screwing me. Ironic, almost."

Damon groaned and rolled his eyes. "Why is everyone saying that?"

Katherine sighed, and moved off of his legs to be beside him on the bed. She crossed her arms under her breasts and tossed her curly hair over one shoulder. Damon examined her and wondered if she and Elena were as identical in body as they were facially. Internally, he smiled at the thought. Outwardly he remained staring at Katherine's face without expression.

"You loved me," was all she said.

"You never loved me," he replied.

She tucked her hair behind her ears in a motion that reminded Damon far too much of Elena when she was being serious.

"It's Stefan. It's always been Stefan," Katherine admitted. Her expression softened and she cast a glance at Damon.

"Of course," Damon looked away. "It's always Stefan."

Katherine's naked body lost all of its sexuality. Instead of reclining on the bed like Aphrodite, she was curled up in the corner like a child. She looked so fragile, so breakable and small. Her slim limbs were pale in the darkness and she let out a shaky sigh.

"I'm sorry."

Damon rolled his eyes, getting up to put on his pants. "The Katherine I knew would never apologise."

"The Damon I knew would never leave me."

Damon did up his belt and turned to face Katherine. She had gathered the sheets up to cover herself and the fragility of her appearance made Damon relentlessly angry. She wasn't fragile. She wasn't innocent. She had no fucking right to be upset about Stefan when she had chewed up Damon and spat him out, bleeding into the world with no aim, no purpose, but to avenge her supposed death and make his brother's life a living hell.

"You've spent the past century and a half avoiding me, Katherine. I've spent it trying to find out a way to free you from the tomb which – get this – you weren't even _in_. So I'm sorry if feel some animosity towards the bitch who just told me that, essentially, she never loved me. So fuck you," Damon laughed, "fuck you."

He didn't stick around to look at Katherine's broken expression as he slammed the door. He pulled on a shirt and picked up a bottle of whiskey on the way out the front door.


	7. Always is a really long time

_In case you haven't guessed by the title of this story and the content, a lot of this takes place with Damon under the influence._

_- Alice_

_

* * *

_

Chapter Seven: Always is a really long time

* * *

Damon was already wasted by the time he got to The Grill. The empty bottle of whiskey lay discarded in the bushes out front and he practically fell through the door. Some guy patted him on the back and asked if he was okay, but Damon just nodded and continued on. He found an empty booth and collapsed into it, leaning against the table for support.

A distant part of his mind was surprised when it wasn't the blonde girl – Caroline – asking him if she could get him anything. But Caroline was still in intensive care, healing as slowly as a human could. He just asked for a scotch and the girl frowned, obviously wondering whether she should serve someone who was so drunk already.

When she eventually left, compelled to bring him a drink anyway, Damon heard Stefan's voice beside him.

"You look terrible."

He had slid into the booth opposite his drunk brother and was smiling at him. Elena was standing next to him, looking down at Damon with concern.

Bitches.

All of them.

"Stefan," Damon slurred, "no offence. But could 'joo jus' piss off right now?"

Stefan just chuckled a low, throaty laugh that made Damon's head spin. He heard Stefan then mutter something to Elena about going to get water. Soon, in Damon's field of blurred vision, Elena had replaced Stefan in the seat. Stefan was at the bar, asking for a big glass of water to give his inebriated brother.

Ever the gallant hero, wasn't he?

"Damon, what's wrong?" Elena asked.

Damon just shook his head. "Tell me som'thin'."

"Anything."

"D'you love Stefan?"

Elena seemed to lean in, but Damon couldn't tell if it was because he was falling forward or not.

"Yes."

It's okay, he told himself. That was to be expected.

"Will it," he began, before pausing and beginning again. "Will it always be him?"

"Damon, I-"

"It doesn't have to be me," he interrupted her, looking at her face which was etched with worry. "But will it always be him?"

There was a lengthy pause. The jukebox was playing some song from the 90s that Damon couldn't pinpoint, but the word 'baby' was used profusely. His mind raced as fast as it could in a drunken stupor. He acknowledged that he had essentially just confessed feelings to her, but that didn't matter at this point.

"Honestly?" Elena raised an eyebrow.

Damon nodded, but Elena's answer was cut short by Stefan slamming a glass of water on the table. He told his brother to 'drink up', and Damon just rolled his eyes and stood up off of the seat.

"You were wrong, 'Lena," Damon said harshly. "Katherine didn't come back for Stefan and I."

He cast a glare at Stefan as he wobbled on the spot.

"She just came back for Stefan."

And then he fell over.

* * *

The next morning, Damon woke up with a splitting headache. At first he assumed The Witch was just messing with him for fun, but then the previous night returned to him in a drunken haze and he groaned.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he heard Elena say.

He opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. He was on the couch at Bonnie's house. The sunlight was streaming through the windows and casting a halo over Elena's hair. She really was his guardian angel sometimes.

"I feel like someone bludgeoned me with a bat," he admitted, sitting upright slowly.

Elena smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Are you okay?"

Damon wiped a hand over his face and smiled, as if the action were plastering the expression on his visage.

"Fine. Just fine."

She stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder.

"We're going to go visit Caroline. Apparently she's starting to come to. Hopefully she'll be just as fine as you are," Elena joked. But Damon could tell the worry that was brewing in her eyes. He stood up and approached Elena slowly and carefully, making sure to lower his voice.

"I could help, you know," he said. "Vampire blood can heal people."

In the butter-yellow sunlight of the late morning, Elena's worried expression melted into understanding. She was clearly tempted by the offer, but Damon could sense a doubt in her reaction. That was to be expected though. She knew what vampire blood could do.

"But won't she..."

"No," Damon assured her. "She's have to die with it in her system for the transition to begin and, let's be honest, when am I ever going to offer my help again?"

Elena smiled briefly and nodded. "Okay. Let's go."

* * *

Damon had never been a fan of hospitals. Back when he robbed them for blood, they had still given him the shivers. He supposed that it was part of his history. He had seen medicine progress over time to this clinic whiteness of disease and, in all honesty, it freaked him out. Sick people. He could smell the death on them, the sickness in their blood. It was disgusting.

Caroline was still and pale in the bed, her chest rising and falling slowly with each breath. She'd been in intensive care for over a week since the accident. He didn't know why he hadn't offered his assistance sooner. But when Elena closed the door and blinds in the room, Damon knew she meant business.

"Caroline, sweetie," Elena cooed. Caroline's eyes flicked open just enough to see the colour of her iris.

"Elena?" she croaked out.

"Shh. Damon's going to help you. You just have to do me a favour, okay?"

Damon sighed and bit into his wrist. The sharp stinging pain was soon replaced by dull throbbing. He held the wound over Caroline's open mouth and rolled his eyes as she spluttered at the metallic taste.

"Gross," she managed to say as she swallowed the thick red liquid.

Damon licked his own wound, cleaning it as it quickly healed. All done. She'd be fine in a matter of days. She had swallowed quite a lot so it should heal her completely and take about four days to exit her system completely. Plenty of time to recuperate.

As Caroline drifted back to sleep, there was silence in the room other than the beeping of her monitors. Elena's head turned back to face Damon and her eyes travelled up his chest and toward his face.

"Thank you."

Damon wiggled his eyebrows. "I can think of a way you can repay me."

Elena just laughed and hit his shoulder playfully. Then there was more silence. It was too heavy a pause. Damon was thinking about the night before, how his head still hurt. He was thinking about anything he could without thinking the name he loathed.

You know. It begins with a 'K' and rhymes with Matherine?

But Elena was clearly deep in thought herself. She crossed her arms and hugged herself as if she were cold. Damon frowned and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Are you?" she asked him sincerely. "And don't say you're fine because we know you're not. You haven't been since that first night."

Without even specifying, he knew what night she was talking about. The night at The Grill after Katherine's body had been 'missing' from the tomb. The night he had tried to compel Elena into thinking he was okay.

"I wish I could switch it off," Damon admitted. "Like I used to."

Elena's response was a hug. She buried her head deep into Damon's shoulder and wrapped her slim arms around his torso. Damon hugged her back gently, cautiously. He didn't have much experience with tender embraces...

"I don't know much about 'Always'," she mumbled into his chest. "But I know that right now you need to be okay. Please be okay."

* * *

Katherine stroked the spines of each book as she walked by the shelf. The Salvatore library was certainly extensive. She wondered if Stefan still kept a journal. That would be an interesting read...

The door of the Boarding House swung open and Stefan walked in slowly. She cocked her head and smiled at him.

"Honey, you're home," she sing-songed.

"You need to stop this."

Katherine's smile fell, and she pursed her lips. Stefan had always been such a good boy. Perhaps leaving him to fester in anger for one hundred and forty-five years had been a bad idea.

"Stop what?"

"Don't act coy. This. Messing with Damon's head."

Katherine frowned and remembered the night before. Damon had messed with his own head. She didn't really have much of a part in it.

"You're just upset that he's in love with Elena," Katherine prodded.

Stefan just nodded slowly. "I'm dealing with that... issue separately."

Katherine rolled her eyes and continues her journey along the bookshelves. Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice stood out to her. A story of hatred turning into love. How apt.

"You're worried she's falling for him," Elena surmised.

"No," Stefan let out a laugh. "I'm worried that you're the reason he passed out blind drunk last night."

Katherine visibly cringed and lifted a curly lock of hair out of her eyes. Stefan's expression did little to betray his emotion. He really only had three settings; broody, super-broody, and slightly-amused-yet-broody. Right now he was only on 'broody', his handsome face etched by worry lines in between his eyebrows.

"He and I had a conversation. He left in a huff. That's it," Katherine drawled, rolling her eyes. She made her way towards the back of the library, the furthest book shelf from the front door. Stefan didn't follow her. He remained in the entrance hall, watching her every move.

"A conversation. Really. About what, exactly?"

"About how he's better in bed than you are," Katherine chuckled and cast a flirtatious glance at Stefan, who shifted a little uncomfortably. Mission accomplished.

"Then what set him off?"

Katherine let out a reluctant sigh. There was going to be no way around this, was there?

"Essentially? I told him that I never really loved him," Katherine admitted.

Stefan let out another one of those almost forced laughs. "I tell him that every day."

"Well, you didn't also add that I was only in love with you, did you?" Katherine asked.

The silence was only broken after thirty seconds by the sound of Damon and Elena pulling up in the driveway.

**Reviews are love.**


	8. Words, words, words

_Thanks to everyone who's reviewed. Hearing positive (or negative) feedback is always a pleasure and it makes the effort in writing stories so worthwhile. I'm also glad that you guys aren't flipping out over my Katherine interpretation. I just feel that she's represented in fics as such a malicious bitch and gets killed etc. Really, I see her as manipulative in every respect, but she really did/does love Stefan. So yeah._

_Thanks,_

_Alice_

_Also P.S.  
As you may have noticed with the Katherine POV last chapter, I'm moving away from Damon a bit. Not for any particular reason other than that I'm not a good enough writer to not do it._

_P.P.S_

_Sorry for the short chapter. I love you all._

_

* * *

_

Chapter Eight: Words, words, words

* * *

"Jeremy's barely spoken to me since the Founder's Day parade," Elena admitted to Damon as she sat in the passenger-side of his Mercedes.

Her voice was low and raspy with hurt, so Damon let out a sigh. "Anna died, Elena. I told him so."

Elena's eyes darted to Damon and she frowned. "When?"

"The night of the parade. The night Katherine came into town. She was in the basement with me, and John staked her," Damon admitted.

The sound of the gravel under the car's wheels as they pulled into the driveway was harsh. It punctuated Damon's statement with thousands of cracks, like a little lightning bolt. Elena just stared off towards the Boarding House.

"What do we tell Stefan?" she asked.

Damon's eyebrows rose up on his forehead. Tell Stefan about what?

"About Caroline," Elena finished, as if reading his mind. Damon exhaled mentally, letting out a figurative sigh of relief. He wasn't ready to talk to Stefan about everything else. Not that there was much to talk about. Was there?

Elena then insisted that she come inside, even though Damon had advised her against it earlier. The hug back at the hospital had really thrown him for a loop, but Elena seemed like she needed the company more than he did. What elated him to no end was that she'd said she needed his company, not Stefan's.

Well, she hadn't said 'not Stefan's'. But until that little 'what do we tell him' she hadn't specified that the younger Salvatore was really on the itinerary tonight.

Damon was still unsure about allowing Katherine and Elena to meet face to face. Sure, the manipulative bitch had been 'on her best behaviour' (unless you count fucking Damon and then ripping out his heart _again_), but she certainly hadn't been making any promises that Elena wouldn't be on her menu. Damon gritted his teeth and turned the handle of the front door slowly.

When they stepped into the foyer, they entered deadly silence. Katherine was backed up in the lounge against a bookshelf. Stefan was staring at her from the hallway. Only when Damon cleared his throat did the two unlock gazes and stare at the pair entering the Boarding House.

"Are we interrupting something?" Damon asked, coldness evident in his voice.

Stefan only frowned at Elena, confusion as to why she was here clear on his face. But Elena simply stepped slightly closer to Damon at the sight of her doppelganger and swallowed.

Katherine, unlike Stefan, easily switched off from the moment Damon had clearly walked into. She smiled and sauntered towards the trio in the foyer, her hips swaying and her curls bouncing.

"Hello Elena," Katherine cocked her head to the side. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Katherine," Elena stated with calculated iciness. Damon could feel her heart racing though. The fear was cutting through her like a knife. She had known how identical she and Katherine were, but seeing it up close was probably a shock to her system.

"You sure know how to pick 'em, Stefan," Katherine cocked an eyebrow. "She's a looker."

Katherine's eyes, slow and predatory, looked Elena up and down. In Damon's mind, he pictured Elena with the same expression on her face and had to suppress a smile. He was having far too many sexual fantasies about his brother's girlfriend to be considered innocent.

"I'd be interested in just how physically identical we are," Katherine licked her lips subtly, which made Damon spin out into another fantasy. Great. Couldn't he ever just be mad at someone without wanting to have sex with them?

But Elena actually touched his hand. It was just a little brush of the fingertips but it was clearly intentional. She was terrified and wanted to hold his hand. Elena – the Elena – wanted to hold his hand because she was scared. And with her boyfriend less than a few feet away. Damon's eyes shifted around the room.

"So," Damon began, his tone comically and intentionally awkward, "What's going on here?"

Stefan's eyes flickered to his, silently pleading. Pleading for what? Damon had no idea. Pleading to leave Stefan and Katherine alone for a moment? Pleading to get Elena out of the Boarding House? What exactly did Stefan want?

That certainly appeared to be the question of the evening.

"We were just at the hospital," Elena said, trying to break the stillness in the air.

"Why?" Stefan asked, eyes glancing over Elena's form to make sure she wasn't injured.

"Not me," Elena sighed, "Caroline. The car accident. She's going to be fine though."

_I made sure of that_, Damon added silently, absently itching the area on his wrist where he had bitten to get Caroline his blood. That always happened. Flesh memory – like remembering the wound brought make a reaction in his nerves. That's why his chest always hurt when he was around Katherine. An emotional wound manifested physically.

Katherine laughed.

"Did you slip her a little, Damon?" she asked, cocking her head to the side and looking up at him under her eyelashes.

Damon let a sly smile cross his face. Hopefully it said 'Back off, bitch'. But his voice said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Stefan finally spoke up, his eyes narrowed. "It's been weeks, Katherine. We still have no idea why you're here."

Damon glanced at Katherine's eyes. Something passed through them – a flicker of true emotion. But she blinked and it was gone.

"I told you why I'm here," she said through clenched teeth, the veins around her eyes raising with anger and frustration and, assumedly, blood lust.

"I'm not buying it," Stefan frowned.

Okay.

Damon had most definitely missed a huge part of this conversation.

So had Elena, by the look on her face. Confused, stoic, like a bemused portrait of exquisite mystification. She was trying to piece together the puzzle, but several pieces were missing. And Damon didn't think Stefan would give them up easily.

"Fine," Katherine rolled her eyes, all semblance of real emotion gone. "I did have an ulterior motive."

Damon was prepared to step in front of Elena protectively, but at the first shift of his muscles, Katherine was already letting out a patronizing laugh again.

"Not Elena, Damon. Don't worry your pretty little lovesick head," she chided, stepping even closer to the threesome, up the small stairs from the living room.

"Then why?" Stefan asked again.

Katherine paused, looking from beneath her lashes at all three of them. Her gaze held longest on Stefan, who stiffened and clenched his jaw, the muscles tightening and releasing slowly.

"Tell me," Katherine began, flicking her curls over one shoulder and crossing her arms. "What do you three know about werewolves?"

Silence.

And then Damon cracked up laughing.


End file.
